


For the Children Who Have Known Nothing Else

by senshinkan



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Children in War, Joui War, M/M, Not Shippy, hijikata and gin as kids, mild spoiler for the thorny arc (hijikata's backstory), they are very cute but war changes people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senshinkan/pseuds/senshinkan
Summary: “What’s your name then? You at least owe me that for barging into my dojo and staining the floor.” The silver-haired boy scoffed. “It’s Gin, and you’re welcome, bastard. Should have left you to die.”Or - Hijikata and Gintoki meet in a small dojo in the countryside, and Gintoki tries to prevent the war from taking another child hostage.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	For the Children Who Have Known Nothing Else

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic (x-posted on ff.net) and I revised it a little bit. Still shakey, but I hope it works. Criticism is more than welcome :>
> 
> Also Gintoki and Hijikata are around 12-13 here. This is right after Hijikata injures the people who invaded their home and before he becomes a dojo challenger. I'm very upset at how Gintoki was thrust into the war very early on and wanted to combine that with his relationship w/Hijikata :'I

Hijikata trembled -in fear? trepidation? - as he hid behind the once-peaceful walls of the dojo.

He'd heard from his sensei that a war was going on, - "a horrible, horrible war" his sensei had told him- and he'd heard some names from his friends too, something about a few boys his age who apparently hadn’t died yet fighting in the frontlines.

The dojo was supposed to be far away from the battlefield, safe for raising new samurai, but dozens of Amanto soldiers had appeared in the garden at night, screaming about how the Joui scum must be annihilated. It was difficult to believe that war could reach their town; so peaceful and ever-silent, but the night had suddenly been split in two with a loud thud, bombs going off on the streets. His sensei had run outside with a bunch of older students to get help and instructed him to keep the door closed at all costs. He had tightened his fists in a mix of childish fury and fear, taken a sword in his hand, and balled up near a wall on the opposite side of the door.

And now that door was being forced open, as an Amanto soldier hit it repeatedly with his sword to tear it down. His eyes widened as he realized that he couldn't hide, at least not in the saloon-like space of the dojo. He desperately stumbled to the farthest corner and stuck to the wall in hopes of blending in with the darkness. The screams grew louder, and the door began to fall apart, and he sat there clinging onto his sword, a shudder overtaking him as an unnatural yellow light gleamed in the window. Fire? Hopefully not. A strange tremor coursed through his veins as cracks appeared on the door, a bloody face akin to a mixture of rhino and elephant snarling at him. The continuous banging of the sword was ringing in his ears, and he closed his hands around his own sword once more, trying to hide its brightness behind him. He closed his ear with his other hand, trying to detach himself from the loud sound-

No.

The sound stopped.

He instinctively jumped onto his feet in a second, heart beating fast but the rational side of his brain overcoming any sign of fear. He looked at the stranger who had destroyed the door as his hands shook around his sword. _I can do this if I need to_ , he told himself. _I can. I’ve done it before._

The soldier watched him for a second and grinned. "You're really gonna fight?" Ignoring the glare from the boy, he continued smugly "You’ve never killed anyone before? I can tell. Your stance oozes innocence." The amateur swordsman sneered inwardly but didn't lose the grip on his sword as the intruder took a step towards him. "Well, then," the soldier licked his lips, grinning. "Shall we?"

Hijikata barely had the time to take a defensive stance when his opponent closed the gap between them and their swords clashed. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that this was no different from the countless matches he had every day in the dojo, and no different than the time he’d lost himself and slashed at flesh. This was a live, conscious performance, wasn't it?

Now with more confidence and a somber expression, the younger swordsman moved gracefully, internally satisfied by the bewildered expression on the soldier's face. He trapped his opponent skillfully between the wall and himself, and was ready to deal the finishing blow…and yet,

and yet he hesitated.

Using the hesitation to his advantage, the intruder quickly reversed their positions. "Now this you don't learn in this dojo, right kid?" Hijikata looked around desperately for an escape route, all to no avail. "Die." The soldier swung his sword as the young man tensed, deflecting the sword with a quick parry. Facing the soldier again, his eyes widened as his opponent swung at him with another sword picked up from the floor. He wasn’t quick enough, and there were seconds until he would feel the sword slashing at his flesh, perhaps a mortal wound. Would death live up to its fearsome reputation passed through generations in the tales of this old town? Would Tamegoro cry for him if he died here? Would it have been good riddance?

He was momentarily deafened by the unexpected sound of clashing swords.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get out, idiot!" The newcomer spat out in an irritated voice as he shoved the boy out of the swords' reach and continued to exchange blows with the soldier. "There's no one at the door now, this one was part of a recon troop, but it'll be swarming with Amanto in ten minutes! Run!" The short samurai drove the soldier into a corner, a tuft of white hair visible in the moonlight. And yet, Hijikata couldn't bring himself to run, hell, he couldn't bring himself to move. He was frozen in place, watching the mysterious figure –who kind of looked his age – as the other stabbed the soldier mercilessly in the gut. Blood poured out of the wound, hypnotizing and sickening, dark red mixed with green.

"I said get out!" the silver-haired boy stood in front of the other. "Hey!"

Hijikata suddenly felt his cheeks burn with a slap, which thankfully brought him out of his daze.

"Go! You don't have much time now!" the other hissed angrily. "Don't just stand there…whatever your name is."

"It's Hijikata."

"Great! Now I know your name. How fucking helpful." The response was dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, as soon as they come here all the exits will be closed."

"What about you?" The question hung in the air for a second until the samurai answered in a not-so-reliable and surprisingly childlike voice. "I have a friend. He'll be here later." Hijikata clenched his fists and spoke through his teeth.

"I _can_ help. Let me stay here, and I-I'll fight with-"

"Oi,oi, are you mad?" The samurai exclaimed, voice filled with annoyance and a weird tint of grief. "You can't, dumbass! You are good with swords, I saw you fight, but killing others is a habit you only learn with time, and hesitating gets you fucking killed-"

"I'll learn to kill, alright?" Hijikata raised his voice, forced maturity deepening his scowl. "This is my town, my family lives here, and I'll kill whoever I need to." His eyes darted to a small but deep slash on the other boy’s forearm and after determining that the streets were too quiet for another attack to be underway, he ran to the cupboard in the corner of the room with a hushed “wait”. He returned with a bandage and began wrapping it around the porcelain skin stained with blood. The samurai grumbled "ten minutes, I said" and "unimportant cut", flinching the slightest when the bandage pulled at the wound.

“What’s your name then? You at least owe me that for barging into my dojo and staining the floor.”

The silver-haired boy scoffed. “It’s Gin, and you’re welcome, bastard. Should have left you to die.”

Hijikata ignored the insult and finished taping the bandage together. Grabbing the bloody sword, Gin made his way to the door. Hijikata followed him outside with determined steps and a sword in hand until the silver-haired silhouette sharply turned around with a mocking scowl on his face.

"Look, we're in the middle of a war. You'll kill someone eventually, don't worry. But you have to delay your involvement as much as you can, you hear me? We’ll drive them out anyway. Go to your family, use your energy to defend them instead of trying to be a fucking hero." Gin’s voice had turned deadly as he walked to Hijikata with bold steps and pulled him close, snarling into his face.

"Look at me."

Hijikata defiantly kept his eyes fixed on the wall ornament, anger sending tremors through his hands.

"I said look, right?" The other said through clenched teeth, forcefully tilting his chin and making eye contact.

His eyes were, for the lack of a better description, hollow pools of red. Not even a hint of anger was in those crimson eyes save for the sharp feral glint illuminating his expression, and that scared Hijikata more that he thought it would. The stark contrast between the face still carrying baby fat in the cheeks and the dark emptiness it had was startling. Hijikata felt a pang of empathy deep in his chest.

"Do you really want to do this to yourself? Live among corpses?" The samurai whispered tiredly, and Hijikata's eyes were fixated on the red orbs twitching in apprehension with every sudden movement. Then suddenly the other took a step back, and breathed slowly.

"Go now. Zu- my friend will be here in a second."

Hijikata stood for another moment.

"Oi! Run, bastard!"

That made Hijikata bolt out the door. He didn't look back until he was near the bushes on the way to Tamegoro’s, safe from the slashing of alien swords. When he did; he saw two people –black and white under the ominous moonlight - moving in perfect coordination as if they were dancing, warding off dozens of Amanto with a speed that could only be instinctual.

And he could swear that he saw a glint of red eyes darting in his direction.


End file.
